


Puzzle Pieces

by Peachy_curls221



Category: Sherlock - Fandom, Sherlock BBC, Sherlock Holmes - fandom, johnlock - Fandom
Genre: Bisexual, Caring Sherlock, Dad John, Daddy Sherlock, Family, First Kiss, Gay, Getting Together, Jawn, Jawn Watson, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Parent!lock, Parentlock, Protective John, Rosie Watson - Freeform, Rosie and sherlock, Sherlock Holmes - Freeform, clever rosie, fathers, holmes - Freeform, john holmes - Freeform, my dear watson, rosie holmes - Freeform, sherl, sherlock bbc - Freeform, sherlock watson - Freeform, sherly - Freeform, watson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-10 01:17:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16460696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peachy_curls221/pseuds/Peachy_curls221
Summary: Rosie watson helps things along with her dads.





	Puzzle Pieces

“Hey! Ro! Don’t do that!” Sherlock shrieked, leaping over the sofa to reach the 6 year-old trying to put Lego in her mouth. Pouting, Rosie stared up at Sherlock with large doe eyes.   
“I’m sorry Sherl.” she mumbled, twisting her hands in her corduroy pinafore. The detective’s expression softened, and he lifted her up on his knee.   
“That’s okay Ro, just be careful not to be..?” The young girl bit her lip as she tried to remember the end to Sherlock’s sentence.  
“An idiot?” She gave him a flash of white teeth as she giggled. Raising his eyebrows, he responded,  
“Well, I was going to say dangerous but yes, I should think I would disown you if you turned out to be an idiot.” . He chuckled, placing a kiss amongst her snowy curls.   
“No you wouldn’t!” A sharp voice called from halfway up the stairs,  
“Cleverness doesn’t matter, we love you for you, Rosamund!” before her father entered the sitting room, the pair shared an exasperated but fond look at the simple-mindedness of the man they loved.  
“How was work, John? I still don’t believe you’re back at the surgery!” Sherlock puffed, taking the shopping from John, who threw him a look that said that this was not to be discussed in front of Rosie. Unfortunately, the girl was perfectly trained to pick up on the subtlest of expressions, and instantly drew on the tension.   
“What’s going on? Why shouldn’t Daddy ask that?” All three of them froze, refusing to make eye contact. “I - I mean, why shouldn’t um Sherly ask that? I mean, it’s um, not like- “   
Sherlock placed his hands on the girl’s shoulders, turning her to face him.   
“It’s alright, Ro. I shouldn’t ask that because it’s an adult conversation and would probably be boring for you, and as calling me Daddy, well,” glancing at John for permission, he drew in a breath, “well, maybe let’s just stick to sherly?” the tension in the room was thick and uncomfortable. The mistakenly used epithet weighing on all of their minds, they went back to their activities somewhat awkwardly.

 

 

“So. Are we going to discuss what happened earlier?” John glanced at sherlock, sitting up straighter in his armchair. The detective sighed.  
“If you are referring to Ro using a different term for me than usual, then there’s nothing to discuss; ‘father’ is a biological term referring to which male contributed the—“   
“Yes, ok! I get it! I understand what ‘father’ means!” He paused, trying to form the thoughts in his head into words. “I just- ‘Daddy’ is a very different term to ‘father’, and I suppose that I was just wondering, what you would like to be called? I mean, you spend more time with her than I do, I don’t see why she hasn’t called you ‘Daddy’ sooner, and I just want you to know that I support your relationship and I’m so grateful for how loving you’ve been with her.” Startled, Sherlock blinked slowly, processing this unanticipated response.  
“Well, I suppose that it would make sense for her to call me ‘Daddy’, and... well I would rather like it.” Peering down at John, the younger man nodded. “Yes. I would like to be her ‘Daddy’.” As an idea dawned on him, John closed his eyes, trying to catch the tendrils of his thoughts that were drifting away. Then, with a sudden leap to the ground, his eyes shining with emotion he exclaimed excitedly, “you should adopt her!” 

 

 

The clunking of glasses and happy small- talk filled the small London flat as the new family celebrated becoming officially related. Endless pictures were taken, embarrassing but meaningful moments captured, well-wishes exchanged and hip- flasks subtly sipped from to endure the tedious pleasantries. Amongst all the hustle sat a small girl with hair like spun gold, and sparkling eyes as cornflower blue as her fathers’. Her cheeks flushed and hair tousled, she sat cross-legged on her Daddy’s chair, reading earnestly about tobacco ash and tree bark properties. Despite her age, she got through 30 pages before she grew lethargic, and went in search of the owner of the book. Pushing past countless jacket hems and jumper sleeves, she finally found the tailored blazer she was looking for. A small hand sneaked it’s way up Sherlock’s arm, and squeezed, demanding attention. Instinctively, the detective reached down and gathered the child up in his arms, moving his neck in order for her to place her head in the hollow of his shoulder. Fortunately, the man she had chosen cared very deeply about his loved ones, but loved few, so was unhesitant in striding away from the conversation he had been engaged in. 

As he nestled her within the covers, drawing the duvet around her small body, the bright young girl asked him,  
“If you’re my daddy and I also have a dad, then that means that you’re my parents right?” Sherlock nodded fondly, sitting down beside her.   
“Well, then it’s kind of like you’re in love?” Chuckling, Sherlock drew her closer to his side.  
“Me and your dad do love each other, and we are your parents, but I don’t think that we’re the type of parents in love that you’re thinking of my dear Watson.” She wrinkled her nose, both at the appellation and her Daddy’s ignorance.  
“Sherly, I know that you love Dad in a different way than what- I mean, how - you love me. And I think that maybe he might love you like that also.” Tears pricking the edges of his eyes, the detective buried his head in her soft, sweet - smelling curls.  
“I love you a lot, Rosamund Watson, don’t forget that ever, ok?” The child drew back, her thirst for answers unsated.  
“Sherly, you didn’t answer what I said. I think that you both love each other, and you need to tell each other because you’re being an idiot like Anderson and the world will be a horrid place if it’s full Andersons.”   
Proud of her speech, she sat up and stared accusatively at Sherlock, her gaze so piercing it seemed almost to rifle through his deepest secrets. Startled by the amount of intuition contained within such young eyes and the uncanny resemblance to his younger self, the detective just gaped at her for 30 seconds.   
“Well, I-I mean..” he sighed, “ he doesn’t love me like that, he’s not gay, Ro, and it’s- it’s just never going to happens so let go of it ok?”  
“But-“   
“Save it alright? It’s really not going to happen don’t waist your thinking time on us sweetheart.” He planted a kiss on the end of her nose, before striding out of the room purposefully, shutting the door behind him. 

 

 

Hours later, the last of the guests had been snapped at to get out by one of the residents of 221b baker st, before being offered condolences and leftover cake by the other. The latter took it upon himself to lecture the other man on etiquette in society, resulting in humiliation for him, after scathing responses from the genius.   
“All right, all right!” Rolling his eyes, John threw his hands up, flopping back on his armchair. “You’re right, yet again!! Does that even give you any pleasure or are you so used to it it’s become mundane eh?”   
“Mmm” was the mono-syllabic response he was offered, but he wasn’t taking it.   
“Hey, why aren’t you listening!” the doctor stood, stepping closer to his flat mate so as to not wake their sleeping child, however he received the last response he could have thought of. Instead of stepping back, as one tends to do when another person stands too close, Sherlock closed the distance entirely, wrapping his arms round the doctor’s waist and bending down to part John’s lips with his tongue. It didn’t last long, however. The time it took John to register what was happening was long enough for Sherlock, however; for someone who’s been waiting for so long for something, those 3 seconds were seventh heaven. By the time John pulled away, as Sherlock predicted he inevitably would, Sherlock could hardly breathe; he had a high that no drug could begin to imitate, and he was now addicted. To John Watson. The only problem was, that his drug didn’t seem to agree with him. Already, Sherlock was experiencing withdrawal symptoms, and he had had John for a mere 3 seconds. He couldn’t begin to imagine the euphoria he would experience if- no. He couldn’t think that. He couldn’t allow himself to dream that this might happen again, or that things would go back to normal or better or that... that was when the penny dropped. Rosie. How could he have forgotten about her!! How could he have risked their relationship!! All for 3 seconds of bliss, which would lead to what? a lifetime of misery and emptiness. He opened his mouth, not because he had anything ready to say, but simply because he wanted to say something, but no word came out. No wisecrack or witty remark. Instead, he found his lips wet and salty, and then someone else licked the saltiness away, and then he was being kissed, and then he was kissing back, and his tears mingled with the taste of John, and it was perfect.   
The two men melted into each other, their shapes slotting together like pieces in a puzzle. Just like they slotted into each other’s lives. Sherlock could confidently say this was the best thing to happen since John had limped in to the lab, fresh from Afghanistan; troubled and broke. Now they were finally one, wrapped so tightly around each other there was nothing that could physically or mentally come between them. 

Padded feet stood at the doorway, tiny hands gripped the doorframe. The largest of eyes peered out at her fathers, finally coming to the conclusion that everyone had already come to before. They were made for each other. And the knowledge that such love existed in the world let Rosie sleep easy at night, content that someday, she might find someone who fitted so perfectly together with her as her fathers did with each other. Content that, somewhere out there, there was a puzzle piece for her own.

**Author's Note:**

> This was so fun to write and I love Parent!lock so much!! Please comment what you think it’d be much appreciated xoxo   
> P.s if any of you have insta I’d love to get in contact! Follow my account @cumberl0cked and dm me xxxx


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